Legacy
by stardate64783
Summary: Leonard H. McCoy calls himself an ol' country doctor. But a discovery hidden deep within Starfleet's archives unravels much more to the McCoy line than anyone ever expected. Eventually Chekov/McCoy.
1. Chapter 1

"Bullshit." Jim stared at the information the console in his cabins displayed.

The Vulcan sitting at said console stared as well. "No, Jim. I do not believe it is bullshit."

A tall, thin woman with curling brown hair stared back at them dressed in the instructor black uniform. Though her face wasn't scowled, the cheekbones and eyes looked uncomfortably familiar. "Wait, is this Bones' wife?" he asked.

"I believe not. As you can see, there are age markers in the grey streaks as well as a slight sagging of the skin." Spock replied. "I can easily place her in her late 50s, perhaps."

"Did you run into her when you were teaching at the Academy?"

"No. This is the first I have acknowledged her existence, Jim."

"Captain Eleanor McCoy..." Jim breathed. "Now what are you doing hiding in Starfleet's archives? You're absolutely sure, Spock? There's no recollection of her being on staff?"

"Affirmative. Her profile notes that she was not actually an instructor other than incredibly specialized courses. She has worked with Admiral Archer."

"So maybe Scotty knows her. Or Bones." Jim couldn't tear his eyes away from the image.

"It would be unwise to pry into Dr. McCoy's personal life."

Jim sighed and leaned against the wall. "Spock, we stumbled across someone who doesn't really exist. She's got no record in the public archives. Apparently, no one's seen her in years." He paused and stared at the opposite wall. "It's like she disappeared in thin air. We should find her."

Spock stared at him. "And your course of action?"

The chime rang throughout the captain's quarters and Jim grinned. "By asking the source itself." The doors slid open and the CMO walked in. "Bones!"

"Thought we were meeting for drinks." Hazel eyes regarded him carefully. "Why do you look like the cat that caught the damn canary?"

"Doctor, do you have any female kin whose name is Eleanor?" asked Spock. Jim watched carefully as those eyebrows shot up into Bones' hairline.

"Yeah..." he answered carefully. "My paternal grandmother, Spock. Why?"

Both Captain and First Officer moved away form the console. Bones walked over and took in the profile that was on the screen. "No...that's not..." he murmured. Instead of glee or even pride, there was confusion. "No, that's not...what the..."

"Wait...Bones, you don't recognize her?" Jim asked.

"Jim, I'm the first in my family to join Starfleet. At least, that's what we thought." The doctor sat down heavily in the seat before the profile. "What the hell is this, Jim?"

"Would this not be your maternal grandmother, doctor?" Spock asked.

"It is, Spock. Just...Jim, I never knew her as Captain Eleanor McCoy." Bones replied.

"What did you know her as?"

"Grammy." Bones growled.

"Wait, if you didn't know her as a captain. What did you know her as? I mean, what was she as Grammy to you?" Jim asked.

"If you want a damn story, Jim, better pour some." Jim grabbed the bourbon that was presented to him when they first departed from Earth and poured it into a glass. After taking a grateful gulp, the story started. "Grammy was my father's mother. Eleanor McCoy who was married to Lance. I always thought they were just a good ol southern couple. That's what dad always called them. They had an old farmhouse outside of Athens. Horses. I spent every summer with them. We always went to their house for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"There were no signs of Starfleet?" The captain sat down on the edge of his bed. Bones looked pensive, staring at the glass as if it held all the answers in the world. "No awards? Uniforms? Badges? Awards? Admirals dropping by?"

"From what my dad told me, they met somewhere in Maryland and decided to settle down in Georgia. Both of them heirs of old money. Then they had my uncles and my dad. Walter, Harold, and David. Dad said that they would leave a lot for work. But they always came back. I don't know what happened but my dad resented his parents as all get out. There were no medals. No sign of Starfleet in their household. No one from the Federation ever called them. I never saw any of it. To me, they were just Grammy and Grandpa." He looked over at Spock. "Was there anything that was attached to her file? Logs? I mean...all I knew was that Grammy was really sick before she died. Grandpa disappeared for a few months then came back and died."

They turned back to the console and clicked through the profile. Spock's monotonous voice read off the details. "Captain Eleanor McCoy. Married to Commander Lance McCoy. Served on the USS Defiant. Rose to captaincy. She retired to work on Starfleet technology as head engineer and designer." Spock's eyebrow raised a bit. "She worked closely with Lance McCoy. He also retired to work and teach at the Academy. It says that they worked on many of the same projects together."

"Cause of death?"

Spock stared straight at the doctor. "Radiation poisoning."

"What?!" Jim watched as Bones all but pushed Spock out of the way. "Radiation poisoning?" But the words glared at him. "But..."

"Radiation poisoning." Spock repeated.

Silence reigned. "Bones...?" Jim called out.

"Spock, is there any way you can route this to my quarters?" the doctor asked quietly.

"Yes, doctor." Spock replied.

"Ok." Bones stood up and left the glass on the table. "I'm gonna have to take a rain check on your drinks, Jim."

They watched as he swept out without another word.

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. The words on his screen no less shocking as they were a good hour ago.

Captain.

"Grammy..." he moaned. "What the hell are you hiding from me...from dad..."

The woman staring back at him. Every bit a stern and brave captain. It looked so much like the woman who readily had pies and cookies and and milk.

_"Want some vanilla ice cream with your pie, Lenny?" Grammy asked. He looked up to see her smile crinkle the corners of her eyes. Her warm hands reached out and wiped at his wet face. "Aw, Lenny. Come here, baby." She sat down in the chair next to him at the dining table._

10-year-old Leonard McCoy just got dumped by Wendy from down the street. She called him a nerd and pushed him in the mud. So he went to Grammy's house. At her prodding, he launched himself into her arms.

"Grammy, she said I was a nerd. Am I a nerd?"

She held him closely. "Now, baby, don't listen to that girl." She smoothed the dark hair on his head. "Like your grandaddy and myself. Why look at us! If we listened to what people thought about us, we wouldn't even be here right now." She leaned in to whisper closely. "Especially your grandaddy. I told him a thousand times I wouldn't date him."

A smile cracked on his face. "Really?"

"Really. Now. How about that ice cream?"

Ok. Better. The words were starting to swirl. Leonard wondered when the screen started to get bigger.

The sharp sting of a hypospray froze him in his seat. "DAMNIT!" He turned to look at his assailant, the pleasant haze of alcohol yanked away from his consciousness. His vision cleared to see Chekov standing with a large smile and an empty hypospray. "What the hell are you doing here, Ensign?"

"Nurse Chapel said you were with the captain. Then the captain said you were in your quarters. So I come here!" he smiled.

"Didn't it occur to you I wanted to be _alone_?"

"Yes, but I wanted to tell you that---" The kid's eyes widened when he saw the screen. "Is that your ex-wife?" he whispered.

Leonard snorted. "Like hell that's Jocelyn. That's my grammy."

"That is your grandmother?" The poor ensign seemed enraptured. "She is...beautiful..." Leonard snorted. Blue eyes narrowed at the screen. "What is that?" A long, slim, pale finger pointed at the screen.

"What is what?"

"Her delta shield. Is blinking."

His own eyes scoured the picture. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The kid picked up his own hand and pressed his finger against the shield on her collar. The screen blipped before them.

"Mitochondrial DNA recognized." chirped the computer. Eleanor McCoy's picture expanded to take up the full screen. Chekov sat down next to him. "McCoy. Access granted."

They watched in amazement as the static image began to move. Green eyes focused on the pair. "If you were able to access this subroutine in my profile, it means that you are a McCoy descendant. The information found in this subroutine is classified. My name is Eleanor McCoy. I captained the USS Defiant." She paused and relaxed her posture. "You will find my logs as well as my first officer's logs on Project O.S." Her image remained static again.

"Project O.S.? What the hell?" Leonard mused.

"Click the logs, click the logs!" Chekov was shouting excitedly.

Leonard reached up and tapped on the logs icon.

The video opened to a giggling image of a woman in some kind of shop. Her dark curls were piled into a bun behind her. She looked so young. Her 30s from Leonard's guess. Her hand covered the lens. "Lance, turn that thing off!"

"You're supposed to say "Captain's log," Ellie." came a voice from off camera. The voice was deep and rumbling, just a tone deeper than Leonard's own.

"Is that your grandfather?" Chekov asked quietly. Leonard nodded.

"Come on, Ellie, introduce our little pet project!" the voice on the video prodded.

She laughed. "Ok. Captain's log. Stop that, Lance! You're making me laugh!" She giggled even more. "Stardate...what's the stardate, sweetie?"

"I have no clue."

"With the permission of the Admiralty, supervised by Admiral Archer himself, I have gotten the green light to start an engineering project that would...revolutionize the way we look at away missions."

Laughter came from behind the camera. "Revolutionize?"

"I lost so many people on the Defiant, Lance..." Her entire composure saddened. "We lost so many people. So many officers. Ensigns."

"Oh sweetie..." A large hand came into view and cupped her cheek. Eleanor smiled sadly. "Come on, tell them about the project."

She laughed. "Ok. Commander McCoy and myself have developed the initial schematics for an operations suit. With my programming--"

"And my engineering."

"We could design a suit that would...absolutely eliminate the need to sacrifice human life. Hostage situations are absolutely gone. We could go in and rescue our men ourselves."

The video stopped abruptly.

"What did it go?"

A new video began to play. "Hello, Eleanor again. The basics of the project has been laid down. I found the perfect fabric that would withstand all sorts of conditions without causing discomfort to the wearer." She held up a black jumpsuit. "This will conform to any wearer. Big or small, wide or skinny."

"Lance McCoy here. We've just finished outfitting the OS with thigh gun holsters. If in the case of an emergency, the holsters themselves could be used as torques. Ellie's working on the programming to somehow to...have the suit repair itself. Program all sorts of fight skills." Lance looked off to the side. There was no mistaking the lust in his eyes. "I think uh...the captain needs um...assistance...McCoy out."

Chekov blushed and Leonard felt the need to avert his own eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

"Could this possibly be the predecessor of the modern day EV Suit?" the kid asked. Leonard frowned and poked at his scrambled eggs.

They spent the rest of the evening watching a few more logs. He let Chekov crash on the small couch in his quarters and the kid had run off in the morning, getting breakfast for them both. They were sitting in front of the console again with Eleanor's profile in view.

After the initial logs, they learned that Eleanor and Lance were obviously and ridiculously in love and quite a dangerous pair when put together. The last log had Eleanor announcing adding an extremely temperamental cloaking device on the suit. The programming had taken the longest to program as they learned from the many logs of Eleanor cursing programming languages up and down.

"Doubt it, kid. E.V. suits were already in production by their era." Leonard replied. "Now cloaking...isn't that dangerous?"

Chekov's eyes widened at the thought. "Extremely dangerous. I did not think the Federation had that sort of technology." He reached over to click open the schematics to the OS.

The suit itself seemed to be a labor of love. It was a sleek, charcoal suit with a barely there delta shield embellishment up the leg and side. At the collar, as was explained 4 logs ago, was the small outline of a delta shield in gold thread. The holsters held the phasers during the tests. Lance had managed to shrunk the communicator technology to the shape of a stamp and hidden it in the collar. They worked on visuals with the installment of a wireless visual goggle.

"Start the next one." Leonard dug into his grits.

The next video showed a heavily pregnant Eleanor and exhausted lance. "This will be our final log for Project O.S. The radiation from the prototype cloaking device has left Eleanor sick." The brunette glared at her husband. "However, after mandatory bedrest, we do have the good news that the captain is with child." Leonard watched as Chekov stared at Lance McCoy. It was the same reaction every time. Everyone did say Leonard looked just like Lance growing up so he didn't see why the kid was so damn fascinated. Lance placed a hand on Eleanor's swollen belly. "We learned today it's a boy so we're thinking of naming him Walter. We've been trying for kids for so long that...hell, we just about gave up. So we requested maternity and paternity leave for the time being."

And like that, the video cut. "Who is Walter?" asked Chekov.

"My dad's oldest brother." Leonard replied. "Is that really it? I mean...all the logs?" His eyes scanned until they found another set of logs. "Wow, this is dated a few years after dad was born."

The video opened to Eleanor and Lance's somber expressions. "Starfleet as decided to shelve Project O.S. They deemed it too violent and against what the Untied Federation of Planets is about." Eleanor reported stoically. "So this is captain Eleanor McCoy with First Officer Commander Lance McCoy out."

"That's it? They gave up on their dream?" Chekov's eyebrows knitted. "But why? Just because Starfleet said so?"

"Hold on, there's one last video." Leonard replied. He stared at the stardate mark. "This was...this was a month after Grammy died." he whispered.

The kid was looking at him carefully. "When did she die?"

"I...I just got into med school. I drive to their place to tell them and..."

_He excitedly threw the screen door open. "Grammy! Gramps!"_

"I saw him."

_Sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, staring at a pad. "Dad? What're you doing here? Where's Grammy and Gramps?"_

"My dad was just sitting there like any other morning. He told me that--"

_"Son, Grammy died last night." Neither of them paid heed to the dropped acceptance message on the floor._

"Grammy died." Leonard finished softly.

Chekov didn't move from his seat. "We do not need to watch the next video if it will be painful for you." he offered.

He shook his head. "Saw the rest of the videos. Might as well see the last thing I'd have of both of them." He reached out to activate the last video.

A heavily aged Lance McCoy appeared. The man was skinny with age and a lean diet, with a trademark scowl instead of a smile. It was easy that the light in his blue eyes had disappeared. "Stardate 302942.4. Commander Lance McCoy reporting. Captain Eleanor McCoy passed away a month ago after suffering from radiation poisoning from her younger years of experimenting with Project O.S. Though we officially abandoned the project in record, Captain McCoy and myself have returned periodically to make necessary improvements as newer technology surfaced over the last 50 years. The prototype personal cloaking device has been removed and any lasting radiation has been thoroughly removed. It was this device that caused Captain McCoy's downfall." Lance allowed himself to look depressed for a moment.

The two men watching joined in the moment of silence.

"My last and final contribution to this project was the integration of environmental nanobots. This has replaced the subroutines in repairing the fabric so it would self-repair more quickly. This has also replaced the environmental controls; adjusting the suit itself so that the wearer is not too hot or cold. A third feature, which replaces the problematic cloaking device, is that these environmental nanobots function like a chameleon's scales. On command, the suit will blend into its background or surroundings." He paused. "This will be my last log and will be sealed away in the deepest bowels of Starfleet's archives. Ellie and I have programmed the entire project to operate and reveal itself only to a person that matches our mDNA. It was...her dying wish that either our grandchildren or some distant descendant will take up the project again." Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. "Though I don't see that happening as all of our sons and grandchildren have no particular interest in Starfleet." He sighed heavily. "So if you are of our kin in the future and do decide to pick up on this project again, Eleanor and I wish you good luck and godspeed."

Silence ruled the room.

Leonard finally rubbed his eyes. "So um...why were you here, ensign?" he asked.

Chekov broke out of his trance. "Er...it...it is not important." He was blushing. "I have a shift in about an hour. So...I will go. But..." He gave a longing glance at Eleanor's innocent Starfleet profile. "If you wish to discuss that project...I could meet you after my shift?"

"I'm going to need some time to digest all this. Thank god I have the next two shifts in medical." Chekov nodded and stood up to leave. "And Chekov?"

"Yes, doctor?"

"Thanks...for sticking around." The kid smiled and left.

Leonard showered and pulled on a fresh set of clothes before making his way to medical bay. He went through the motions of seeing hungover or homesick patients or just plain idiots who touched Sulu's plants or stuck things where they shouldn't belong.

But his mind kept drifting back to the new information he had just received in the last 24 hours. Grammy and Gramps were not just Grammy and Gramps anymore. Captain. First Officer. They met in _Starfleet_. He frowned as he sat down in his office. Was this why Pike came after him? It seemed a little too damn convenient for the Admiral, then captain, to have found him drunk off his ass at some seedy bar.

"Hey Bones?" He looked up to see Jim stick his head into his office.

"What do you want, Jim?" He was tired, damnit. Just wanted to hide under the goddamn bed and wait for Armageddon.

Jim slid the door close and locked it. "You ok, Bones?" he asked softly. "I mean...Spock and I...we didn't mean to like just spring it on you."

"How'd you even find her, Jim?"

The captain perched himself on the ledge of his console and gave a shrug. "Originally, I was looking up notable Vulcans in Starfleet because I wanted to put together a surprise for Spock's birthday." Leonard rolled his eyes. "No such luck. I didn't get more than 2 or 3. Then I decided to look deeper in the archives. And I got bored. So I ran some random searches on all of us." Leonard felt his own frown deepen. "Totally accidental, Bones. I didn't think I'd find anything!"

He finally sighed. "It's all right, Jim. Just wish you'd talk to me about it first."

"So...your grandma's pretty hot." There was no mistaking the Jim Kirk smirk. Lord knows, he's seen enough of it back at the Academy.

"Don't you have a starship to captain instead of oggling my Grammy?" he snapped. "I'm sure I have a hypospray around here somewhere." Starfleet captain or not, Jim still fled from the mention of hyposprays.

He came out to have Chapel hand him a stack of datapadds. New patients. Everything from Keenser having the goddamn sniffles to Sulu's fencing injury to a couple of burnt engineers. Leonard shook his head. No time to think about Grammy and her weird ass life. He was a doctor, damnit!

Ok.

Sutre this.

Set that.

Osteogenerator.

Dermagenerator.

"Damnit, Riley! Don't mess with Sulu's goddamn plants!"

"No more wires for you, Lt. Respi."

"Rand, it's a sprained ankle. Quit wasting my time."

"Allergic reaction."

"Alcohol poisoning."

By the time the parade of people finally weeded out, it was 2300 and Leonard just wanted to grab the strongest cup of coffee Starfleet food synthesizers could attempt. Grammy and Gramps' voices were still buzzing in the back of his head. "Dying wish." he muttered under his breath as he pulled up a chair to an empty biobed.. "No way in hell am I gonna take it up. I'm a doctor." He propped his feet up on the biobed and began at the paperwork of the day.

He was halfway through Repsi's report when he heard a commotion at the doors. Leonard looked to see Ensign Pavel Chekov carry two trays on top of each other and trying to convince Chapel to get by. "Really! I am only here to give Doctor McCoy dinner!"

Chapel was tough. No one ever got under Chapel's skin. Well...no one but Pavel Chekov. Leonard watched in amusement as her tough exterior melted and she ruffled the kid's hair. "Go on, I think he's stewing on Biobed 6." Leonard shook his head and returned to his paperwork.

"Hello, doctor!" Chekov greeted. "I have brought you dinner." He lowered his voice. "And am here to discuss that thing if you wish." He set a tray in front of Leonard and pulled off the cover. "I figure sandwiches were easiest to eat in case you get a new patient while we talked."

He blinked. "Er...thank you, Chekov. But I don't particularly want to talk about Grammy's secret life."

Chekov perched himself on the biobed and folded his legs before picking up a sandwich of is own. "But doctor, your babushka wanted you to continue her work. Your papa, he is not in Starfleet?"

Leonard frowned. "No, dad was not in Starfleet. None of my uncles or cousins were too interested in joining either." He took a tentative bite. The sandwich itself was dry, synthesized crap as expected. "And I have no interest. I'm a doctor, not an engineer or programmer. I can't make any improvements on it."

"Then perhaps I can work on it?" Leonard already shook his head, coming up with a million reasons why the kid shouldn't work on it. "Why not?"

"It's dangerous. It's been shelved by Starfleet. It'll get you court marshalled. And it's my goddamn Grammy's project! Need I go on?"

"All you need is a programmer and an engineer to work on it. I can program and Mr. Scott can engineer improvements. Maybe you could present it to Starfleet and they will want it again!"

"When the hell did you become a programmer?"

Chekov waved it off. "I did for fun at the Academy when I was bored. Or you could call Commander Spock! Or the captain! He beat Commander Spock's Kobayashi Maru!"

He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. This was definitely a subject he did not want to hear about for about...oh...a couple of eons. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Chekov..."

"Doctor."

"This was Grammy's project."

"And she wanted her children to continue it." Before Leonard could continue, Chekov started again, "If you do not do it, then your son or daughter might. Or grandson or granddaughter. Would you risk putting them in danger of possibly 100 year old technology?" Blue eyes met his in a steady gaze. Despite the cherubic face, Chekov's eyes were always bright and Leonard could practically hear the cogs turning in his brain.

"Kirk to McCoy."

Leonard winced. "McCoy here." he called out.

"I'm gonna need you at the debriefing. Starfleet's issued orders. And if Chekov's still there, tell him to go too. Officer Conference Room A at 0700. Kirk out."

"Well, you heard the man. Now get the hell out of here."

Chekov looked like he wanted to say something but settled on twisted his lips into a hard frown. He picked up his tray and left medical bay without another word.

Leonard took another bite of his sandwich and returned to filing reports. Damn kid was going to be the death of him.


End file.
